1 



'rice Fifty Cents 





WAR POEMS 



AND 



OTHERS 



BY 



Julius S. Berg 



A poetical history of the great \S 



! 



INTERESTING. ELEVATING. AMUSING 

The Greatest War Book 



S&SCS*-** 



JULIUS S. BERG 



AUTHOR 



PUBLISHER 



887 Forest Avenue 

New York City 



Price Fifty Cents 






BY 

JULIUS S. BERG 






MEMBER 

VETERANS OF FOREIGN WARS', 

AMERICAN LEGION 






— FOR SALE — 

WHERE GOOD BOOKS ARE SOLD 

OR BY THE AUTHOR 

JULIUS S. BERG 


• 




(Hiiia look ia SeoirateD 
in fffla. Irar Wife 

Snap 





COPYRIGHTED MARCH,-. 1921 

JULIUS S. BERG 

8 8 7 jf o r e s t ave n u e 

New York City 



©CI.A608996 
APR -5 1921 

1 / 






TO MY READERS 



This book was published in this inexpensive form in order that 
it should be within the reach of all who desire to read it. 

I sincerely hope that the price paid will not lessen the value 
of the poems in your estimation. 

The contents of this little book is the result of two years* work, 
and are the thoughts which came to me during the time I spent 
in the hospital recovering from my wounds received while 
serving with the American forces abroad. 

This little book is sold on its merits and the author has the 
confidence that after reading it, you will tell your friends to 
order their copy. 



PRELUDE 

This is my book — I wrote it. 
I've given a thought to rhyme. 
I might have done much better, 
Had I taken the time. 
It's only a little collection 
Of poems that were written in bed ; 
Preparing to leave all the living 
While waiting to go to the dead. 

I'm not a poet — I never was, 

I never dreamed a poem ; 

Before the war I worked all day 

And studied while at home. 

I did not finish public school, 

No college have I had — 

Somehow I think — for a lad like me 

My poems are not so bad. 

I said these poems were written 
While I was lying in bed, 
'Tis true — for I was wounded 
In the foot — the hip — and the head. 
Heavens! Sometimes I forget 
That my shoulder got a whack, 
And how I overlook such things 
As the shrapnel in my back. 

Lying in bed from day to day, 

And through the dreary night — 

I thought of poems — I thought of verse, 

I thought I would like to write. 

And so my gentle reader, 

You've the story of a fool. 

A foolish poem composer 

Who did not finish school. 

5 



WHY 

Why is this great calamity? 
Why is this bloody war? 
Why should men be killing men 
They never knew before? 

Why are there ruined cities? 
Why bridges blown away? 
Why buildings laid in ashes 
By the fires of yesterday? 

Why are there weeping widows? 
Why little orphans, too? 
Why so many cripples? 
What did these poor ones do? 

Why so many sick ones? 

Why so many graves? 

Why were they forced to go there? 

Were these people slaves? 

Why not stop your murder? 
Why not stop your war? 
Why not fight the civilized way? 
Why not International Law? 



I REMEMBER 

I remember — I remember 

When the country went to war. 

Songs were sung and bells were rung 

I never heard before. 

"Don't bite the hand that's feeding you," 

"Enlist before the draft," 

"Now, who will sign — to cross the Rhine?" 

And everybody laughed. 

I remember — I remember 

They took it all in fun. 

No one surmised or realized 

We had to whip the Hun. 

But when the mighty draft came on 

And took the country's men ; 

Newton Baker — the number taker, 

Picked mine as number ten. 

I remember — I remember 

The day I went to camp. 

In September — Oh! I remember, 

The people's eyes were damp. 

They watched us leave the station, 

What didn't mothers say, 

There goes my boy — my pride — my joy, 

GOD — Bring him back some day. 



I remember — I remember, 

When we sailed across the foam. 

With tear in eye, we said Good-by 

To Liberty and Home. 

We ne'er expected to return 

To our noble land so free, 

But our smoke screen defied submarine, 

We safely crossed the sea. 

I remember — I remember, 

The town we landed in. 

Then the long road — the heavy load, 

And my helmet made of tin. 

My trusty rifle filled with shot, 

My bayonet spick and span, 

My hob-nail shoes-— the army blues, 

And the good old mess-kit pan. 

I remember — I remember, 

The trench that I was in, 

How awful wet — the parapet 

All reinforced with tin. 

How I sank in mud up to my knees, 

The shell hole where I slept, 

The cunning beauty called Mister Cootey 

And the other bugs that crept. 

I remember — I remember, 

The time that I was shot. 

A dreary night with star shell light, 

High explosive's what I got. 

I dropped upon the fire step, 

I heard shooting and the yells, 

The wounded moaning, the dying groaning, 

'Twas like a million hells. 

8 



I remember — I remember, 

The hospital's grey wall. 

The operations and amputations 

And still that isn't all. 

For many boys were blind they say. 

And one couldn't speak or hear. 

And my friend Dick was awful sick, 

'Twas a sight you'd almost fear. 

I remember — I remember, 

Pulling into the U. S. A. 

Mothers crying — sweethearts sighing. 

Oh ! What a joy that day. 

We landed in December, 

And for Christmas we were home, 

Mid yell and cheer, we stated clear 

No more — we'd cross the foam. 



TO MISS S. 

A little verse 

About a nurse. 

Peculiar name, 

But just the same — I like her. 

A pleasant smile 

All the while, 

A cheery song 

The whole day long — I like her. 

Her jolly style 

It will beguile 

A heart of gold, 

My story told — I like her. 




10 



BONES AND HAIR 

The blood soaked fields are richer now 
The blood soaked fields of France. 
The finest flowers lie there now, 
Flowers that took the chance. 
Budding youths down Flanders way, 
Who fought the fight out there; 
They're fertilizing ground today, 
With bones — with blood — with hair. 

The mounds not covered yet with grass 

To hide them from our sight, 

They lie there, boys of every class — 

To them it's always night. 

The bugle sounded and they went 

Without a thought or care, 

A shrapnel shell, their blood was spent 

Naught left but bones and hair. 

Their bodies placed in gas soaked sod, 
Gun metal makes their bed. 
The crosses pointed toward their God — 
Who willed that they be dead. 
They died in battle, every one, 
They faced the German foe ; 
Staunch until their day was done — 
The day they had to go. 

The blood soaked fields are richer now, 
The blood soaked fields of France. 
The finest flowers lie there now, 
Flowers that took the chance. 
Budding youths of the U. S. A. ; 
Who fought the fight out there, 
They're fertilizing ground today 
With bones — with blood — with hair. 

II 



UNDER ETHER 

The room is dancing, 

Tables prancing, 

Eyes are glancing at me. 

My toe's in my mouth, 

My eye's on my knee, 

I can't feel my back. 

Oh! where can I be? 

My fingers are stiff 

And my brain's going round, 

I feel like I'm sinking 

Right through the ground. 

My ears are ringing, 
Voices singing, 
Something's clinging to me. 

I feel so high, 
I feel so low, 
I feel so foolish, 
Oh — I don't know! 
I feel so big, 
I feel so small, 
And now I don't ; 
Oh — feel at all. 



12 



ONE— TWO— THREE— FOUR 



One — Two — Three — Four 

Is all we heard and nothing more. 

One — Two — Three — Four, 

We tramped until our feet grew sore. 



For miles and miles we marched that way, 
We hadn't time to stop to pray, 
To battle ground we marched along, 
We couldn't cheer it with a song. 



One — Two — Three — Four 

Is all we heard and nothing more 

While serving with the Army, OVER THERE. 



One* — Two — Three — Four, 
The march step of the hell called war. 
One — Two — Three — Four, 
Sickened to the very core. 



Fifty minutes down the road 
With our heavy laden load — 
Always marching to the test, 
And never a "Fall out, boys, and rest. 



it 



13 



One — Two — Three — Four, 

The march step of the hell called war, 

While serving with the Army, OVER THERE. 

One — Two — Three — Four, 

With nothing but grim death in store. 

One — Two — Th ree — Four 

Until we heard the cannon roar. 

And then into the battle line, 
Just waiting life to beat its time. 
The sight — the wounded and the lame, 
It simply drove us all insane. 

One — Two — Three — Four, 

With nothing but grim death in store, 

While serving with the Army, OVER THERE. 




14 



TO MY FOOT 

Well — old foot, the time is near 

When we must say good-by. 

I know you hate to leave me 

And I know it will make you cry. 

But say! why let it grieve you? 

You won't be alone, 

For, part of the leg is going too 

And a great tig piece of the bone. 

They'll keep you company, 

You can tell them of your loss. 

Tell them what good pals we've been, 

And how you served your boss. 

Say that you never tripped me 

And you tried to do your best, 

When I needed you, to carry me 

Through life's long weary test. 

I hate to see you go, old pal, 

I hate to see you leave, 

I am sure that I will miss you; 

Your loss will make me grieve. 

I tried my best to save you, 

And I'd be willing to try some more, 

But they tell me that it's all no use — 

Gee! but you look sore. 

Cheer up — old pal, look bright! 

I wish that you could talk 

For I know you'd say you're sorry, 

Since without you I can't walk. 

But don't let it worry you, old top, 

For around this world I'll run 

On a foot that's made by a blacksmith, 

And I'll think it a lot of fun. 

It was in France they wounded you, 

They shot you in the heel; 

15 



And when you bled, and the way you pained, 

I felt that you eould feel. 

I suffered many operations 

To keep you here with me, 

But I think I had better lose you, 

Before I lose my knee. 

You see — you're very sick, old pal, 

In fact you're about to die, 

And I think, they had better cut you off, 

Before your sickness goes too high. 

I hope to meet you again some day 

In Heaven or maybe in Hell. 

But say — don't you find it awful hard 

To say your last farewell? 




THE GERMAN SING-SONG 

Sing a song of death shells 
Full of mustard gas, 
Choking, coughing, sneezing men 
Dying in the grass. 

Sing a song of whizz-bangs, 
Shrapnel flying hot, 
Tommies — Scotties and the Yanks, 
Breathless there they rot. 

Sing a song of air raids, 
Over head they fly, 
Women, children down below, 
Every one must die. 

Sing a song of sea subs 
In the briny deep, 
Water is their resting place ; 
Let them sleep and sleep. 

Sing a song of war fare 

On the land and sea, 

Kill them — never mind the law, 

All for Germany. 



17 



THE HIKE 

We were walking down the road 

With our heavy, heavy load, 

Stepping to the tune of 

Auld Lang Syne. 

We had tramped for twenty mile 

In the good old Yankee style, 

When our dear young captain hollered, 

"Keep your line." 

Our knees were getting soggy, 

And our guide man he was groggy, 

But we stuck it out and tried to do our best ; 

We were just about to fall 

When we heard above it all, 

The welcome order, Men — Fall out and rest. 

How we hated to give in 

When the order came, "Fall in." 

But we had to make G'Salti by the night; 

So with even Yankee pep 

And a measured Yankee step 

We started, but it was an awful sight. 

We threw our packs away 

In a ditch we let them lay. 

It seemed as though we had a hollow chest, 

Our knees were all but caved, 

Thank heavens we were saved, 

By the welcome order, Men fall out and rest. 



8 



We staggered into line 

When the captain counted time, 

We were hungry and our feet 

Were getting cold. 

Now we tried to keep the pace, 

When a lad fell on his face 

And yelled aloud, I cannot go no more. 

But we kept the step aright, 

And soon we saw the light 

Of G'Salti and we felt that we were blest. 

We sang a Yankee song 

For it wasn't very long 

Till the final order came, 

FALL OUT AND REST. 



/ 




19 



WE TOLD YOU 

We warned you, Old Bill, we warned you. 
We told you it couldn't be done ; 
We told you to quit all your nonsense 
And we told you to lower your gun. 

You wanted the world by conquest, 
You wanted the earth and the sun ; 
We told you to watch America, 
And we warned you — it couldn't be done. 

You told us that you'd stop the Allies 
From landing a single ton; 
But every one landed, Old Billy, 
For we told you it couldn't be done. 

We warned you, Old Bill, we warned you, 
We told you it couldn't be done ; 
We told you to quit all your nonsense, 
And we told you to lower your gun. 



20 



BRAVE IT 

When shells are flying 

And friends are dying 

And skies are of crimson red ; 

When machine guns chatter 

And cannons clatter 

The sad sing song of the dead. 

Don't dare get a fright 

But enter the fight 

With a heart that is brave and true. 

Just grab you a Hun, and say that you won, 

Then the world will say • 

You're true blue. 

When your pals all round 

Wounded, fall to the ground 

And it seems that your end is near, 

Just brave the trench mortar, 

And enter the slaughter, 

Soldiers must never know fear. 

Though the sound of a shell 

Is the music of hell, 

Be brave — you're bound to come through, 

And when it is done, 

You'll call it all fun 

And the world will say you're true blue. 



2! 



TO MOTHER 

Here in the fields of bleeding France, 
Where comrades they are lying, 
Here in the jaws of battles chance 
Where mother's sons are dying. 
I think of you, my mother dear, 
Of the days when I was home ; 
And how I wish that you were near 
To cheer these hearts of stone. 

I chanced upon a German boy, 
In a shell hole, there he lay. 
I'm sure he was some mother's joy, 
For how he tried to pray. 
God — he said — God help me, 
I'm the only one she's got; 
For mother's sake — Almighty — 
Help me — I've been shot. 

I looked him over once or twice, 
I thought it best to kill; 
His wounds were filled with creeping lice- 
It gave me an awful chill. 
But mother dear, I thought of you, 
I asked what would you say? 
I knew he had a mother too — 
And so — I let him stay. 

Somehow I knew a mother's love, 

And I felt the mother's pain; 

And there in the sight of God above 

I could not see him slain. 

Should I get hit — I hope and pray 

While I am under cover — 

A decent Hun — will come my way 

And save me — for my mother. 

22 



AMERICA FOR ME 

Never again will I cross the sea, 

There's but one place in the world for me- 

That's America, my home, 

The land of the free. 

And you bet I'm proud to say, 

I believe in the U. S. A. 

I don't like the land 
Where the folks drink tea. 
And I was never foolish 
About gay Paree. 
For there's nothing there 
That you can't see 
Right over here 
In God's country. 
Russia don't count 
With its Bolsheviki — 
I don't like spaghetti, 
So no Italy for me. 
The greasers can't bribe me 
With hot tomalee; 
And China gives naught 
But a chink chop-suey. 
Spain's dancers don't lure 
With their tamborees. 
And Iceland won't do, 
For there I would freeze. 

Never again will I cross the sea, 

There's but one place in this world for me- 

That's America, my home, 

The land of the free. 

And you bet I'm proud to say, 

I believe in the U. S. A. 

2 



IN THE ARMY 

Tramp — tramp — tramp — 
Around the old drill field. 
Tramp — tramp — tramp 
The whole day through. 
Squads right — squads left, 
And on right into, line, 
And when you're finished drilling 
You get a plate of stew. 

Left oblique — right oblique, 

And the halt in place; 

Keep in step — change your step, 

Like an old foot race. 

Column right — column left, 

Then squads right about ; 

Should you howl or make a growl 

For K. P. you're picked out. 

Work around the mess hall, 
Guard duty in the night. 
Keep your rifle spick and span 
Or you'll get yours alright. 
Fatigue — details and orderly — 
I can't think of all the rest ; 
But in the dear old army, 
Is where manhood gets its test. 



24 



I ANSWERED THE CALL 

I know I'm not much 
For I've an arm off you see, 
I answered the call 
From over the sea. 
I joined the colors, 
I left the old town; 
For it made my blood boil, 
When women went down. 

I stood Belgium's rape 
And England's loud yell, 
While France looked the picture 
Of a great earthly hell; 
But when children sounded 
Their mother's death bell — 
I answered the call, 
From over the sea. 

The arm that's not there 
Is somewhere in France. 
I lost it 

Because I took a chance, 
To grab a Hun — 
He was one of eight, 
That came in a bunch 
And killed my mate. 

I wanted him prisoner, 

I meant no harfn — 

I'll never forget 

The night — it was calm, 

I reached for him — had him, 

I lost my arm ; 

But back to his trench, 

I made him dance. 

25 



Didn't do great things, 
But my arm is gone. 
I don't regret it 
And I'm not forlorn. 
An arm don't count 
To a lad like me — 
In a great big war 
For Democracy. 

I'll be well paid, 
So I am told, 
Compensation and bonus 
And the stuff called gold; 
Of course — my arm- — 
I never sold, 
I lost it, 
Even the bone ! 

I know I'm not much, 
For I've an arm off you see; 
I answered the call 
From over the sea. 
I chased a Hun 
And made him run, 
Though I broke my bayonet, 
And blasted my gun. 

He planted a bomb 
And he placed it right ; 
And when it went off — 
It killed my fight. 
Democracy called ! 
And I fought that night, 
I answered the call 
From over the sea. 

26 



MARCHING SONG 

Here comes old Company I. 
Good-by, old Fritzie, good-by. 

We're out to beat you; 
Yes, we'll defeat you ; 
Don't let us meet you. 

Here comes old Company I. 
Good-by, old Fritzie, good-by. 

Farewell forever, 

You thought you were clever, 

Will you win— NEVER. 

Here comes old Company I. 
Good-by, old Fritzie, good-by. 

We're on our way Bill, 
We'll make you pay Bill, 
Best that you pray Bill. 

Here comes old Company I. 
Good-by, old Fritzie, good-by. 

We'll break your front line, 
Crash through your rear line, 
Sail down the old Rhine. 

Here comes old Company I. 
Good-by, old Fritzie, good-by. 

We'll show you how rough, 

We are with our stuff, 

We'll teach — You can't bluff. 

Here comes old Company I. 
Good-by, old Fritzie, good-by. 

27 



BATTLE CRY 

Into the battle, Company I — 

Into the struggle, to do or die ! 

Into the Germans — into the Hun, 

Into the fight — till the fight is won. 

Into the blood-shed, Company I — 

Into the fields where comrades lie! 

Into the tussle — into the strife, 

Into the push for freedom's life. 

Into the shelling, Company I — 

Into their trenches, let us try; 

Into their shell holes — into their den ; 

Into their funk holes, 
LET'S GO I MEN. 




28 



BASE TWENTY-NINE 



Back there in Tottenham, 
In old London town, 
With its curious buildings 
Most tumbling down; 
I remember the hospital — 
Base twenty-nine! 
The days that I spent there, 
And the people so fine. 



The nurses and doctors 
From Denver they hailed. 
A crowd of the best 
From America sailed. 
There was Powell and Dean, 
And Pershing and Brown, 
Hobart and Kellam 
And then dear Miss Town. 



How well I remember 
The whole Denver crew, 
For they worked so hard 
And they were so true. 
When I get old — 
With life's fleeting time, 
There in my memory 
Will be— TWENTY-NINE. 



29 



WHICH IS BETTER 

Thousands of soldiers crippled ; 
Thousands of soldiers dead ; 
Thousands of wives are starving 
For the want of a little bread. 
Thousands of mothers are weeping; 
Thousands of babies cry; 
Thousands of fathers are praying 
For their sons who had to die. 

Out on the field of battle 
They are fighting day by day. 
Slaughtering one another 
In every kind of way. 
Cannon, guns and rifles, 
Bombs, gases and shell 
And other death devises 
Of which writing cannot tell. 

Thousands of lawyers running; 
Thousands of judges we saw, 
Thousands of wives are happy 
For hubby won't go to war. 
Thousands of laughing mothers 
Thousands of babies dear; 
Thousands of fathers waiting 
The decision of court to hear. 

Out in the court of battle 
We fight there day by day; 
Pleading our many cases 
In a most civilized way. 
Judges, lawyers and jurors; 
Brains, justice and law, 
Tell me isn't it better 
Than the murder we call war? 

30 



ALL ABOARD 

All aboard — all aboard ; 

All aboard for McHenry jail. 

We take you in and keep you in, 

For we accept no bail. 

We treat you right both day and night ; 

We try to feed you well ; 

We want to state that our staff is great, 

Though the place is next to hell. 

The food we give will make you live, 

Until you're old and grey; 

I d say it's just like mother made, 

If I could lie that way. 

We serve an egg with a crippled leg 

Which smiles at you and then 

Through your nose you disclose 

It was laid by some sick hen. 

Now to speak about our meat, 
To tell the truth I vow, 
The meat you get, to our regret, 
It never came from cow. 
The more you try to do or die 
And battle for your rights, 
Instead of meat you'll simply eat 
Hamburger in tights. 

Sausages — bologna — bologna and sausages, 

Now you know what that means; 

It's almost worse than the army curse 

Of living a life on beans. 

We don't serve tongue — 

Wouldn't give you lung, 

As that isn't fair, you see. 

So many a morn — just to keep you warm 

We serve liver that hung from a tree. 

3! 



From the waters fair, the scented air 

Sweeps through the wards all day; 

The fertilizer called hypnotizer 

Holds you firm they say. 

It smells as rich as a putrid ditch 

In which we bury the dead. 

When the wind doth blow, the patients go, 

Under the sheets to cover their heads. 

All aboard — all aboard — 

All aboard for McHenry jail. 

We take you in and keep you in, 

For we accept no bail. 

Nurses and doctors, and surgeons as well, 

Good food — fresh air, 

And operations so swell, 

We cut you and bleed you, 

For nobody needs you, 

While at McHenry jail. 




TO GERMANY 

We've heard about your armies 
And your navies of the brave; 
We've heard about your fellows 
Who dig other fellow's, graves. 
We've heard about your submarine. 
Your airships and your shot ; 
Your rifles, ammunition, 
Your gases and what not. 

32 



But the Blue and the Grey — are on their way 
To show you what you're worth; 
They'll take the Kaiser and his gang 
And wipe them from the earth. 

You'll find the war that you have made 

Will prove the story true, 

And soon you know exactly what 

Preparedness can do. 

For we'll shatter every city, 

Wreck every soldier's home; 

Leave their wives and friends to suffer 

The pangs of life alone. 

So while you may, you better say 
Your battles are all through. 
We come with pep and double step 
And you know what we can do. 

We love the U. S. A. 
That's why you hear us say 
We're coming to your shores; 
We're glad to lose our lives 
And leave our widowed wives 
With orphans of the war. 

The Kaiser may be great, 

But we'll wipe him off the slate. 

Since war dangers he'll increase, 

And we'll stand in all our glory 

And we'll tell the same old story 

That the U. S. A. will always fight for peace. 



33 



THE VETERAN 

A "veteran" is a soldier of a war — 
A man who stood before 
The bullets, the shrapnel, and the shell — 
And suffered the pangs of Hell. 

Wear the uniform? He did more than that — 

Wore a helmet called a hat. 

Slept in dug-outs with creeping lice. 

A "veteran" made the sacrifice. 

Hard tack for weeks — and that's not all, 
He answered every bloomin' call 
Without th° grumble, without a kick ; 
A "veteran" helped to turn the trick. 

His battle ground was "Over There." 

He breathed a breath of powdered air. 

He heard the deadlv whizz-bang shriek. 

A "veteran" HAS THE RIGHT TO SPEAK 



He is the real soldier, the "veteran." 
Not the domestic kind, 
Who tells us what he would have done 
If he was not left behind. 

'Tis true we needed men at home 
As well as over sea — 
But credit is due the "veteran," 
That's just between you and me. 



34 



JUST IMAGINE 

Friends together, 
Summer weather. 

Lovely night, 
Bright moonlight. 

In the park, 
After dark. 

Not a sound, 
None around. 

Babbling brook, 
Shady nook. 

Lovers two 
Bill and coo, 

Just Imagine. 




35 



A THOUGHT 

It was morning and the snow 

Was on the ground. 

She was lonely, 

For, no one was around. 

And she thought 

How happy she could have been 

If married — 

In the sight of God and him. 

Every virtue that was hers 

She shared with Jim — 

With no return, 

And every wish grew dim. 

Still she loved 

And cherished the hope that love 

Justified 

Their acts before God above. 



ISN'T IT FUNNY? 

Isn't it funny, 
When a man meets a girl, 
He thinks that he met 
Some rare precious pearl ; 
He'll hire an auto 
To go for a whirl, 
Spend money at dances 
Just for a twirl; 
He'll tell her her hair 
Has a beautiful curl, 
And he made his money 
Through sweat and toil — 

Isnt it funny? 

36 



Next week out to dinner 
Where food it is punk. 
He'll send her some books, 
And such other bunk 
As diamonds and jewelry 
And pictures and junk. 
He buys enough candy 
To fill her big trunk; 
He'll spend all his money 
In getting her drunk, 
And he worked all the week 
In a factory that stunk — 

Isnt it funny? 



He'll run around like a real busy bee, 

Fly to the beach 

For a week-end spree. 

He'll blow her friends 

Though they number three. 

Buy her wines — 

And cocktails and tea. 

He'll spend every dollar 

To his last V, 

And for the rest of the week 

He's broke as can be — 

Isnt it funny? 



37 



She plays her game 

And she plays him right. 

She gives him a date 

Each Saturday night. 

She'll love him and tease him 

And then start a fight. 

She'll order him out 

And say, Leave my sight. 

If he speaks a word 

She's up like a kite. 

But the poor boob takes it 

And sits real tight — Isnt it funny? 

He'll tell her each evening: 

My dear, you're a beaut ; 

Your dressed so nifty 

And you look real cute. 

Your nice little foot 

Looks neat in its boot. 

The same old stuff 

Tha,t all lovers shoot. 

To buy her a dress 

He'll smoke a cheroot, 

And back to his job 

He'll work like a brute — Isnt it funny f 

The truth of the matter 

Is, the girl has a face 

That would win first prize 

At a bull dog race. 

Her eyebrows look like 

An old piece of lace 

And her cute upper lip 

Is all out of place, 

And she works in a store 

Behind a chewing gum case. 

Still — each Saturday night 

To her home he will chase — Isnt it funny f 

38 



Her actions show 

That she was bred — 

In a boiler plant 

Where they make lead. 

And she's bow-legged, too, 

So it is said. 

Has saw dust for brains 

In her square flat head. 

And the boy that she went with 

Before him — was dead, 

But still he is willing 

To go on and be bled — 

Isn't it funny? 




TO MY SON 

I am your mother — 
And you, my son; 
What will they say 
When my day is done? 
Like mother the child 
Is the story told, 
What will they say 
When I am old? 
I will be judged 
By all some day, 
My boy! My boy! 
What will they say? 

39 



SMILE 

If things are going wrong 

And the days are dark and long, 

Don't give in, wear a grin — and SMILE. 

If you're down and out and broke 
And your watch and junk's in soak, 
Don't give in, wear a grin — and SMILE. 

If you lose that job downtown 

And your sweetheart turns you down, 

Don't give in, wear a grin — and SMILE. 

If you're hungry and you're cold 
And your clothes are getting old, 
Don't give in, wear a grin — and SMILE. 

If your landlord comes some day 

And says pay or move away, 

Don't give in, wear a grin — and SMILE. 

If life don't seem to treat you right 

Grit your teeth and start to fight, 

Don't give in, wear a grin — and SMILE. 



40 



MIK 

I am the son of a doctor, 
And a wise old doctor was he. 
He travelled the world after marriage 
And made Ireland a home for me. 
Later I found out the trouble, 
But I don't know who to blame — 
Now I will tell you the reason 
I had to add Mc to my name. 

My father was born in old England ; 
Met mother while back in New York; 
But I was born in a county 
In Ireland that's known as Cork. 
My father's parents were Swedish ; 
While mother's came from Spain; 
So in order that I should be Irish 
I had to add Mc to my name. 




41 



What funny things we oftimes see, 
A big girl on a small man's knee. 
Poor boy — he takes it all in fun, 
Although it seems she weighs a ton. 
What funny things we oftimes see, 
A big girl on a small man's knee. 

What funnythings we will recall, 
A real short man with lady tall. 
He'll look up to her calf-like face, 
And how he'll stretch for one embrace. 
What funny things we will recall, 
A real short man with lady tall. 

What funny things we're often told, 
A wise young girl with man so old. 
She marries for his roll of money, 
He didn't die and it's not so sunny. 
What funny things we're often told, 
A wise young girl with man so old. 

What funny things the dry goods girls, 
They sell you curtains, laces, pearls. 
They dress just like a dolled up freak 
And the most they get is five a week. 
What funny things the dry goods girls, 
Who sell you curtains, laces, pearls. 



42 



I'M OF THE STREET 

I'm only a woman of the street, 

The kind you always meet 

Walking the avenue — from day to day, 

With the look that says — 

"Come on and pay/' 

For, I'm only a woman of the street. 

I was young upon a time 

And very pretty too ; 

But I never knew what love could do. 

It drives a girl into the rut, 

She's blind and cannot think, 

And it isn't long until she falls 

And then — she takes to drink. 

And then— she's driven down and down 

By all her worthy friends ; 

Denied the chance of decent life, 

She can't even make amends. 

Beaten and cuffed at every hand, 

No one to cheer her along — 

Do you v/onder why most any man 

Can buy her for a song? 

I know I'm a woman of the street, 

And of course you'll say I'm lying 

If I tell you I was driven, 

But say: There's no denying, 

Upon a time I loved a man 

Who promised me his life. 

I loved him — and I trusted, 

I knew I'd be his wife. 

But when all was over, he went away 

And left me with my shame, 

And since that time, I haven't cared 

43 



About myself — or what became 
Of those at home and all my friends 
Who wouldn't help me to rise, 
And I sank — and still I am sinking, 
And I sell to him who buys. 

I know it won't last forever, 

This life I live today; 

But while it lasts — I suppose 

I'll sell my soul this way. 

In the sight of God and man 

I live the life of Hell — 

But I know the reason — I loved, 

And my story is true— Oh, well, 

It doesn't matter anyway 

For whoever I chance to meet, 

They laugh at me, and ask the price 

Of a woman of the street. 




44 



LIFE 

Life is the thing 
We can't figure out. 
It's made up of reason, 
Suspicion and doubt. 
We're born, and we live 
But never know why. 
What's life? is the question 
Throughout— till we die. 
We work and we toil 
That both ends may meet, 
Struggle and sweat 
To have shoes on our feet. 
A few have the millions 
While masses cry — , 
It's a question of life ; 
The answer is, WHY? 

There are wars and volcanoes 

Wherein people are slain; 

Some people prosper 

And some never gain. 

The good die young, 

The bad live on — 

Countries are born 

And Nations have gone. 

Seldom is credit given where due, 

When you get old- — death beckons to you. 

The poor stay poor, till the day they die, 

It's a question of life — the answer is WHY? 



45 



FORD REPAIRS 

Today is Monday, 
Monday the wind shield, 
Oh — you Henry Ford, 
I wish the same to you. 

Today is Tuesday, 
Tuesday the spark plug, 
Monday the wind shield, 
Oh— you Henry Ford, 
1 wish the same to you. 

Today is Wednesday, 
Wednesday the front wheel, 
Tuesday the spark plug, 
Monday the wind shield, 
Oh — you Henry Ford, 
I wish the same to you. 

Today is Thursday, 
Thursday the axle, 
Wednesday the front wheel, 
Tuesday the spark plug, 
Monday the wind shield, 
Oh— you Henry Ford, 
I wish the same to you. 



46 



Today is Friday, 
Friday the gas feed, 
Thursday the axle, 
Wednesday the front wheel, 
Tuesday the spark plug, 
Monday the wind shield, 
Oh — you Henry Ford, 
I wish the same to you. 

Today is Saturday, 
Saturday the garage, 
Friday the gas feed, 
Thursday the axle, 
Wednesday the front wheel, 
Tuesday the spark plug, 
Monday the wind shield, 
Oh — you Henry Ford, 
I wish the same to you. 

Today is Sunday, 
Sunday a new car, 
Saturday the garage, 
Friday the gas feed, 
Thursday the axle, 
Wednesday the front wheel, 
Tuesday the spark plug, 
Monday the wind shield, 
Oh — you Henry Ford, 
I wish the same to you. 



47 



A VICTOR RECORD SPEAKS 



No one seems to think of me, • 

They keep me in a rack; 

Sometimes I'm thrown around the room, 

Or piled up in a stack. 

They only want to use me 

When they want a dance or song. 

And the way that I am treated 

Is a shame — I say it's wrong. 



Don't let a worn out needle 
Ever travel cross my rills, 
For if it's not sharp it scratches, 
And it gives me nasty chills. 
You'll find that I'll do better, 
If you'll brush me ere I start; 
And if you do not speed me 
I'll sing and dance my part. 




48 



SOLILOQUY 

I oftimes wonder 

What I'd do without you. 

Yes, I think of it, dear, 

Of course just now 

There's no reason to doubt you 

Or that you'll ever be near. 

For yet — our love is as a dream 

And we are still asleep ; 

But what when things 

Are not what they seem 

And the light begins to creep 

Into our hearts, and we find 

To our sad regret 

We didn't see ; we were merely blind. 

We thought we loved, and yet 

We've been happy through it all 

And happy are we today, 

But the castle dear, is bound to fall, 

For it cannot stand always. 

You will grow tired of me, dear, 

For there is no bond between 

We two — and perhaps in another year 

There will be another scene. 

With you and her — as the principal two 

In the play called married life, 

And when you're gone — what will I do? 

I could never be a wife 

To a man who loved and played his part 

As pure as the heavens blue; 

For I've lived wrong, I have not heart 

To give, where it is due. 

Yes, I gave you all I had, dear. 

My love was free and strong. 

But I know the judgment day is near 

When I must pay my wrong. 

49 



I can't stand the thought of losing you, 

For then Td be alone. 

You'd have a wife and babe so true. 

But I ? — without a home, 

Will travel on from place to place 

My journey on forever, 

And where e're I go, I'll see your face 

And the times we had together. 

Of course you know I was not bad, 

When we met not long ago ; 

I was as pure as this earth had, 

And I thought my virtue belonged to you, 

But I loved you — that you know. 

I think it best that I should leave; 
Leave for the peaceful sleep. 
For it's better to know 
Someone will grieve, 
And on my grave will heap 
Flowers of love — than to wait 
Until you've gone. 
To die — to pass death's gate 
With no one left to mourn. 
And so she lived, and so she died 
And so she was born away. 
The man in honor he lived on 
For she had naught to say. 



50 



BOOBY HATCH 

Believe me I'm unhappy 

For I don't know who I am. 

Sometimes I ask am I myself — 

Or am I brother Sam? 

If I am Sam — -I wonder why 

Some people call me Jim, 

And whenever Sam does something wrong 

I'm whipped because I'm him. 

If I am him, then I'm not Jim, 

For Sam must be my name. 

It doesn't seem to matter much 

Since I always get the blame. 

So when I say my prayers at night 

I wonder have I sin, 

And I always ask the question: 

Am I me — or Jim my twin? 




51 



A BOLSHEVIST'S IF 

If I were only ruler of a town, 

I'd arrest the politicians all around, 

Td watch most every cop, 

To their duty make them hop, 

Or I'd turn the whole police force upside down. 

The postman too — would have to be polite. 

The subway, they would treat the people right. 

No thieves would be in jail, 

I'd let them out on bail, 

If I were only ruler of a town. 

If I were only ruler for a day, 

The guys who own the trusts would have to pay, 

I'd have them for my hire 

And they'd have to coal my fire 

Or "Go to jail" is all that I would say. 

I'd make a clean up 

Of the street called Wall, 

And I'd put a jail bird up in City hall, 

I'd fill the town with wine 

And I'd have a grand old time 

If I were only ruler for a day. 

If I were only ruler for a while 

I'd do away with everything called style, 

Every night and through the days 

I'd have open cabarets — and I'd beat 

Old Monte Carlo by a mile. 

The men could all have women by the scores; 

They could run their harems with an open door, 

They could sing and dance and laugh, 

For there'd be no legal gaff, 

If I were only ruler for a while. 

52 



TO DEATH 

Every night there comes a fear 

That you will be near. 

How I dread the thought of meeting you, 

But nothing's. left to do — but die. 

The joy of life is displaced 

Whea with you I am faced ; 

We're born to live and when you're nigh 

We find we're born to live — to die. 

I sing to you Oh death, 
I sing a song of fear; 
I want to live eternally, 
I do not want you near. 




53 



DESIRE 

I want to go back to childhood, 
To the days of the golden rule ; 
I want to go back to the wild wood, 
To the days that I spent at school. 
I want to go back to joyland, 
Back to my dear mother's knee ; 
I want to go back to toy land, 
Back to the thoughts that were free. 
I miss the old gang on the corner, 
And the games we played in the street ; 
I wish I could say "Old Jack Horner," 
And I long for those days of bare feet. 

• 

I want to go back to kid days, 

When nothing worried my brain; 

I want to go back to child ways, 

When I didn't care about rain. 

I want to go back to the old hill, 

Free and clear of all debt ; 

I want to go back to the red mill, 

Where 1 never knew regret. 

I hate all these long days of worry, 

And these weary dark days full of strife ; 

I dread all these days brimmed with hurry, 

How I long for the younger life. 

I want to go back to day dreams, 
When all seemed rosy and bright ; 
I want to go back to play streams, 
When I wasn't bothered with right. 
I want to go back to nine pins, 
The innocent whippings from Pa ; 
I want to go back to kid grins, 
Away from the cares that are. 

54 



WE CAN TALK 

We can talk about the airships, 

And the visits to the sun, 

We can talk about the scientists 

And the work that they have done, 

We can talk about the Bolshevists 

And Socialists as well, 

We can talk about the heavens 

And then the place called hell. 

We can talk about the Panama, 

And the Woolworth building tall, 

We can talk about the price of beef 

And still that isn't all. 

For we can talk about the long range gun, 

And relics of the war, 

We can talk about the submarines 

And the holes that they once tore. 

We can talk about the Germans 

And their dirty rotten tricks, 

We can talk about the Allies 

And who struck the hardest licks. 

We can talk of all the generals 

And the doughboys' work so grand, 

We can talk of dear old Ireland, 

For all the Irish stand. 

We can talk of Woodrow Wilson 

And other men alive, 

We can talk on any topic, 

And still argument survives, for 

We can talk abqut old Mutt and Jeff 

And wonder through it all, 

We can talk about the problem, 

But will that make Jeff grow tall? 

We can talk about the dear Red Cross 



55 



And other peoples too, 

We can talk about the Welfare Board 

And the work they tried to do. 

We can talk about the living high 

And the wages — oh, so low, 

We can talk about the suffrage laws, 

And still there's room to go, for 

We can talk about labor 

And the strikes they're causing now, 

We can talk about a settlement 

And still we don't know how. 

We can talk about the bonus bills 

And compensation too, 

We can talk about our heroes 

And call them all true blue. 

We can talk about the farmers 

And the crops that they'll produce, 

We can talk about the weather, 

And, Oh — well, what's the use, for 

We can talk and talk and talk and talk 

And talk and talk and talk, 

We can talk and talk and talk and talk 

And talk and talk and talk. 




56 



CIGARETTE 

What a pal you've been 

I never shall forget, 

What peace and comfort I have had 

With you, my cigarette. 

When days were dark and dreary 
And I was all alone, 
I'd look into your cloud of smoke 
And there I'd see my home. 

Each puff just seemed to soothe my nerves 
When worry ruled supreme, 
Yes — you have been a pal indeed, 
You've brought me many dreams. 

Dreams of love — dreams of life, 
Dreams of every kind, 
You've been the dearest friend I've had, 
The best I'll ever find. 

I'm sure that I'll enjoy my life 
And I'll never know regret 
Just so long as you're my friend, 
Good old — Cigarette. 




57 



BROADWAY— GOOD-BY 

Good-by old Broadway, 
With your lights so bright, 
Farewell gay white way, 
Au revoir — good night. 
Prohibition is here 
And the town's gone dry, 
So long dear old beer 
And your gin rickeys high. 

We'll miss the old nights 
That we turned into days. 
We'll crave for your lights 
And your swell cabarets. 
No more staying late 
With some sick friend. 
Prohibition's our fate 
And all's at an end. 

We nursed you and we loved you 
Like a baby so young; 
Wrote poetry for you 
And songs that were sung. 
And still we all want you, 
But Prohibition holds sway. 
There's naught left to tell you, 
Good-by old Broadway. 



58 



THE FIRE 

'Twas a frosty winter's evening 
And the snow was all around, 
The reflection of the moon light 
Made a mirror of the ground. 
It was a winter's silence, 
A silence you most could hear; 
A silence of a lonely night, 
A silence you would fear. 

No one ventured out that night, 

The streets were deathly still. 

FIRE — FIRE came the cries, 

A fire on the hill. 

Into the night and into the cold, 

The people swarmed like bees, 

They reached the burning building, 

Where there was a negroe on his knees. 

Heavy axes were brought in play 
And water was brought in a pail. 
We tried to rescue the negroe 
Who was locked in the burning jail. 
For hours and hours we worked there 
But the ice was just like stone, 
The flames were shooting skyward 
And we heard the negroe moan. 

Jim was his name, the negroe, 

who paid the price that night. 

We tried our best to save him, 

Though the fire was caused by a light 

Of a match, that was lit by the negroe 

And applied to the old jail door, 

But somehow it seemed that the door didn't burn, 

While the flames began to roar. 

59 



The jail house was ablaze ere long; 

The negro began to smell ; 

He planned escape through the burning door 

But he sent himself to hell. 

A murderous Jim — he killed a man 

And he also killed his wife. 

fie wasn't content to stay in jail, 

So he paid at the cost of his life, 




60 



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